


One Down

by iHaveAbsolutelyNoWorkEthic



Series: Eboys n Friends Mystery Fics [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: First fanfic ever, Gen, Multi, dunno how else to tag this lol, im excited for the fun to begin, just a mystery, kinda like irl mafia ig, murder mystery. rainy night. theyre stuck. a motel., oh also they arent youtubers in this still friends though, possible shipping, wont be a main focus however
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25526776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iHaveAbsolutelyNoWorkEthic/pseuds/iHaveAbsolutelyNoWorkEthic
Summary: He lay still on his bed. One could almost believe he was sleeping peacefully. One could believe that, if they ignored the ribbons of blood and the knife stuck proudly in his chest.And he wasn't the only one.Basically, the murder mystery version of Mafia. But in book form.
Series: Eboys n Friends Mystery Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885453
Comments: 15
Kudos: 23





	1. A Dark Night

_“Is there anything else that you require?”_

_“No. No, I think that will be quite enough.”_

_Silence._

_“This is a very risky business. I trust you, old friend, but I must say, do you really think we will be able to pull this off?”_

_“Do you not believe in my capabilities any longer?”_

_“Of course I do. It’s just – must we bring innocent people into the midst of this? Surely we can exact our revenge without unnecessary blood being spilled?”_

_A sigh. A disappointed, mocking sigh._

_“I thought you knew how to play the game better than this. Perhaps your time off has made you a bit… soft.”_

_A derisive snort._

_“Soft? Do you know me?”_

_“I do not appreciate your tone. Know that while we may be… friends, we are first and foremost employer and employee. You are not permanent.”_

_Silence, once again._

_“I apologize. Boss. If that’s what you want me to call you now.”_

_A chuckle._

_“Bitter, are we now?”_

_“You’ve changed. That’s why I’m bitter. We were in this together, were we not? All those years, all that blood, does it mean nothing? We were meant to hurt together. In both senses of the word. But now… all you want to do is play silly games when we finally have what we want. Why not do what we’ve been waiting to do now?”_

_Deadly silence._

_“Is that really what you think of me? How… tragic.”_

_“I’m leaving. I do not want to be a means to an end any longer. Goodbye.”_

_“You will not be leaving.”_

_“Oh yeah-”_

_Gunshots ring out in quick succession. A disbelieving gasp. A thud. Blood. A sinister grin._

_Heavy silence falls for the fourth time, accompanying the darkness._

_Suddenly, a voice cuts into the crisp night air._

_“When I said that you were not permanent, I meant it.”_


	2. Thunderous Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alex is not a very good driver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short and sucks but i still need to do the set-up. next chapter will be introductions and it will get good i promise

It was a dark and stormy night.

Both inside and outside the car.

“Alex, I swear to God, if we crash because of you-”

“We are _not_ going to crash, James, have some faith!”

“It’s raining and it’s night and we’re _lost,_ dumbass. Pull over for one goddamn second!”

James was right. The rain assaulted the little car, pounding and pounding as if it were the police at a potential serial killer’s door. It made George feel more than a little nervous. It was already stressful enough that it was Alex’s turn to drive, but the fact that Alex had lost his way while everyone else was dozing off made him sit at the edge of his seat.

Next to him, Will was getting restless. George couldn’t blame him. It had been hours since they had gotten to stretch their legs. With the rain and their location, it was out of the question. However, Will bouncing his leg incessantly made George want to snap Will’s neck.

He shook his head. Murderous thoughts didn’t suit him.

George took a deep breath and looked down at his curled fists resting in his lap, trying to calm himself down. He knew he was overreacting, but he just couldn’t help the uneasy feeling gnawing at his stomach. He had always hated rain. Especially now, with their beat-up Chevy steadily winding up the narrow road carved into the side of a mountain. In total solitude. In the darkness of the night.

It hadn’t been George’s idea to embark on a road trip celebrating their high school graduation. Like with all the stupidly dangerous scenarios he and friends had gotten themselves into, it had been Will’s. Except this time, it actually seemed like a good idea. After all, everyone had seen at least one road trip movie in their lifetime. It always ended up a cherished memory for the goofy characters, no matter how awry the trip had gone in the film.

And it _had_ been an enjoyable journey thus far. George hadn’t expected it to be, but he really did love the gentle ambiance of music accompanying the views of sun-dappled mountains and the merry laughter of his friends.

It _had_ been enjoyable, until Alex decided to go up a mountain range and get themselves lost in its depths.

Alex, the brilliant man in question, was currently staring determinedly at the road. George didn’t know why he bothered. No show of his supposed ‘expert’ driving was going to make anyone in the car happy with him. Apparently, his goal going up the mountains without the boys’ input was to have a nice picnic at the top of one of the mountains. In the rain. At night.

Almost like he heard George’s thoughts, Alex spoke up with a remarkable amount of defensiveness colouring his tone.

“It was going to be really scenic! We could’ve slept the storm out, then had a lovely breakfast on top of the world!”

George almost couldn’t believe it. After all, it was hard to take a man seriously when all you could see of him was a dim silhouette.

Deciding to remain calm, George said, “Alex. For the love of all that is holy. Pull the car over. You can’t possibly be able to keep the car from skidding all over the place if you try to drive too much longer,” George, having backed James up, received a grateful smile from the guy, who then proceeded to look back down at his map, trying to puzzle out where the hell they were.

Will, the colossal idiot, had decided that they would only use maps, and not the GPS on their phones, to navigate themselves along the countryside. Of course, that had been all well and good, until they actually needed to figure out where they were. James’s phone had run out of battery, and the rest of their phones and James’s charger were buried in the trunk, nestled deep below their sleeping bags and snacks.

Oh, how George desperately wanted a snack right about now.

George hadn’t looked, but he knew Will had opened his mouth to speak, simply because the energy in the room (or car, in this case) transformed when Will was about to speak his mind. However, before he was able to utter a word, a spectacular crack of light pierced the ground ahead of the car, temporarily freeing its dwellers of the darkness.

Everyone in the car jumped, then jumped again when the car suddenly swerved a bit.

The rain seemed to pour harder, thunder began to clap its hands increasingly, and the car started to shake violently.

Alex pulled over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oOoooOoOoo what are they going to do now


	3. Cuttle Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival to Cuttle Motel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> considering making this a series of eboys n friends mystery fics. i think the second fic imma do after this (ik, jumping the gun) is a spy thriller.

Alex, Will, and George stood in a silent semicircle, watching James as he worked under the hood of the car, tinkering with the engine.

The rain had eased its torrential assault, allowing the boys to stand outside in their raincoats, hoping blindly that the car could still be driven.

Unfortunately, as time (and George’s constant muttering about Alex and his horrendous driving) went on, Will started to realise that they were well and truly fucked.

These thoughts were confirmed when James sighed, ran a hand through his thick brown hair, and stood up.

“I’m going to be honest here, boys. I have no idea what is wrong with this car, much less how to fix it,” James declared, as if it were just a funny little joke.

That was it. Will’s patience had run out.

“Then why the hell did it take so damn long for you to freaking stare at the engine, you thick-headed twat?” Will burst, unloading all his pent-up anxiety and frustration on James, instantly regretted it when James gave him one of his patented superior looks.

“Care to explain why you sat on your bum when we were trying to work out what to do?” James said, with an annoying little pretentious smirk.

“I do not deserve this lecture. Alex deserves this lecture,” Will said. It was true. Alex was the one who got them into this situation. Alex deserved a lot more than a lecture, that was for sure.

“Hey! I just – ‘m sorry, okay? I really am. I didn’t think – well, I didn’t think that the rain was going to be this bad,” Alex stuffed his hands into the pockets of his baby pink raincoat, his dyed-brown curtains falling into his eyes as he looked reproachfully at Will, his bottom lip jutting out. Oh, that was _not_ going to work on Will again. No amount of puppy eyes could save Alex from the wrath of Will’s anger.

Unfortunately, George managed to open his mouth before Will did.

“I think we need to stop pointing fingers and figure out what we’re actually going to do. We can’t stay standing here all night.”

Will spoke up next. “We could stay in the c- wait, no, that’s a terrible idea.”

“Why is it a terrible idea? We _could_ stay in the car. It may not function as intended, but it still works as shelter, right?” Alex asked Will.

Will pointed behind Alex to a little sign stood in the ground on the slightly raised road above them.

The sign read _, Cuttle Motel 3 miles <\----. _The O was missing.

“Because I’ve just seen that.”

“You sure it won’t be expensive, Will?” George asked, as they made the painstaking trek up the winding road towards the promised lands, their sore arms weighed down with the bags and backpacks they’d had to take from the trunk of the stationary car they’d had to abandon, all while the rain beat down on their backs.

“It’s probably just a little cottage someone’s turned into a motel,” Will assured George, “It won’t cost that much if it’s stranded up in a mountain. Bet it’s even cheaper now that that new resort opened up near the base.”

“Yeah, but what about that supply and demand thing?” James interjected, his eyebrows raised. “The more the supply, the lower the cost. The lower the supply, the higher the cost. In a motel’s case, the supply are the customers, and if you’re right, Will, then it will cost a lot because there is low supply.”

The friends remained silent, contemplating the question, when George piped up again.

“Think you forgot the ‘demand’ part of it, mate. The supply is high because there is no demand. The supply is low because there is high demand, hence the price changes. I don’t think, in a motel’s case, supply would be high if there was no demand.”

James turned to George, his mouth pulled into a pout.

Will laughed and teased, “He’s got you there, James. Guess you’ve gotta give the I-am-the-smartest-one act up.”

They all laughed, before James spoke again, “I guess. Fine. It doesn’t matter anyhow, seeing as Alex is going to be the one who has to shell out the money.”

Immediately, Alex let out an indignant cry and hissed, “Look, guys, you really need to learn how to let go of grudges. It’s been a while, alright? And it’s not like James fixed the car or anything.”

“Alex, it’s been an hour and a half.”

“Shut up, George. You were the one who forgot the Doritos. That’s a more heinous crime.”

“To be fair, he has a point.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Alex, we all like Pringles and Lay’s better. And stay out of this, Will.”

The discussion descended into a full-out argument, with each participant so invested that they all collectively failed to recognize the fact that they had ended up in front of the motel, loudly proclaiming their stances on the various chip brands of the world.

Until a voice called out, “Hello! Do you want to come inside? We have rooms! It’s fairly cheap at the moment, too! It’d be an escape from the rain, eh?”

Will had dropped the water bottle he had been drinking from before having the daylights frightened out of him. Sheepishly, he picked it back up, the silver reflecting back at him, before answering, “Oh, hello, sorry. We didn’t realise where we were. Is this the Cuttle Motel?”

The voice, belonging to a girl who was nodding her head up and down so hard Will was afraid her neck would break, replied, “Yes! It is! I’m the daughter of the owner. Mother will be delighted to have you stay here! Come in, please, come in now.” Will noticed the slightly desperate tone in her voice, coupled with overeager hand gestures and frantic tossing of her dark, wavy hair, and concluded it was not a good time for this motel. If there ever was a good time, by the looks of things.

Cuttle Motel was a dilapidated, outdated, and frankly creepy pile of stone, wood, and concrete. It wasn’t as small as the cottage Will had been envisioning, but it came close. 

The walls of the establishment seemed to be made out of concrete masquerading as wood. The beige-brown paint was flaking, the flat roof was cracking, and the porch that the girl was standing on looked like it was rotten, a (now soggy) carpet strategically placed over the sagging wood. To add to the old and abandoned feel, the whole place seemed to be lacking in electricity, considering how dark it seemed to be.

Not only was it crumbling, but Cuttle Motel had the most bizarre décor Will had ever seen, outside of his maternal grandmother’s living room (the other was an interior designer).

On either side of the door to the motel were two moose heads. Will couldn’t tell if they were fake or not, only that they were truly, truly ugly. The door itself wasn’t very pretty either. It was too far away and much too dark to tell, but it seemed as if there was a giant lion carved into the unlacquered wood.

Will didn’t even want to think about the massive stone monkey statue that guarded the stairs to the raised porch.

George nudged Will, whispering, “Are we going inside?”

Will could tell that George was starting to have some doubts. So was Will, but before he could say anything, Alex started forward towards the stairs to the porch.

James, George, and Will all glanced at each other, before James shrugged and walked forward too.

Will followed him, dragging an unwilling George behind him. It was going to be fine; besides, everyone had to stay in an ugly old motel at least once in their life. How bad could it be? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a secret meaning behind the name Cuttle Motel. Can you guess what it is?


	4. Voices in the Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry this took so long. Motivation is running low :/

“Rebecca! Is someone there?” The voice was distant and a little hard to hear.

“Yes, Mother! I’m bringing them in right now,” the owner’s daughter yelled back, ignoring the flinch of the short guy next to her.

Rebecca led the boys she had found outside through the halls of Cuttle Motel towards the office in the back.

She looked back at them every once in awhile, to see them looking at the walls or the locked doors to rooms in mild curiosity (and plain disgust, in the case of the boy with dark brown hair and sharp jaw).

She noticed that most people had that sort of reaction when they entered the motel, the look of disbelieving wonder and the occasional disdain.

Rebecca couldn’t blame them, really. She had begged her mother countless times to renovate, to redecorate, or at least get rid of the monkey statue. Her mother, being quite the stubborn lady, refused to let go of her love for creepy animal monuments and oil portraits of slightly big ladies from the seventeenth century (they weren’t genuine).

Shaking her head, Rebecca came back to the present. She was lucky she’d managed to snag some more guests, guests that looked like they didn’t have another option. It was a little manipulative, she supposed, but alas, so is the business of the hotel industry. Or motel. Or other temporary residential establishments.

She’d reached the end of the hall they were in (Cuttle Motel may have looked small, but from the inside, it was a maze of failed architectural endeavours), so Rebecca took a right at the fork into the next hall, opened the first door to the left, and gestured for the boys to come inside. 

Inside sat Lorraine Lively, the (some would say, including her daughter) eccentric owner of Cuttle Motel, in a pale-pink sundress and light brown sandals.

She smiled warmly at Rebecca, then let her eyes wander to the boys hovering awkwardly behind her daughter.

“Welcome, welcome! My name is Lorraine, but you can call me Laurie – or Ms. Lively if you’re the formal type,” Ms. Lively winked at the boys before gesturing to Rebecca, chirping, “This is my daughter Rebecca. She prefers to be called Becky.”

The boys all muttered their assent, and Becky’s mother nodded her head proudly at Becky.

She gave a small smile to her mother, before hurrying to the desk her one parental figure was sat at and opened the drawers, rummaging around for the papers.

Becky could feel her mother’s eyes on her, silently judging her movements, making Becky hyper-aware of each movement her hand made, each toss of her head.

Becky finally recovered the check-in papers, handed them over to the boys, and recited the line her mother had always taught her to say: “Please sit down and fill out this check-in form. You will then be provided with keys to your room. The charge is thirty pounds a night per room. There are two beds per room. Any questions?” The boys shook their heads, and Becky smiled as personably as she could.

Becky glanced at her mother, seeking approval, who widened her eyes in warning at her. Becky realized with a start she hadn’t provided a writing utensil. She grabbed a cheap blue ballpoint pen from the scratched surface of the desk and handed it to the tallest boy, gesturing for him to sit down on the tiny floral armchair with an even smaller round table that Becky and her mother had barely been able to squeeze into the cramped office space.

The next few minutes consisted of the boys filling out the forms while Becky played with her hair, watching quietly as her mother chatted with the boys.

Becky wasn’t the silent type, not at all. She was quite the opposite, actually, always the class clown in any class she was ever in.

However, her mother was charming and cheerful in a way Becky could never be. She was beautiful, too: thick, soft auburn hair that was cut high above her slender shoulders, creamy skin, and friendly jade eyes.

In short, Becky had always felt like she was lesser than her mother. Which was ridiculous, her mother had assured her, the one time Becky had voiced her concerns. It hadn’t really eased her worries (and though she hated to admit it, jealousy).

It didn’t matter, though. It was all just petty thoughts.

“So, uh, can we have two rooms? Next to each other? If that’s possible?” The boy, whose name she’d managed to catch as Will, asked.

“Yup. Of course. My mother will provide the keys to your rooms. Since there is, you know,” Becky gestured at the window, which was wet from all the rain droplets, “a bit of a storm brewing out there, Cuttle Motel will be delighted to accommodate you with some of our fantastic facilities.”

The boys nodded slowly, seemingly impressed, not expecting this from a supposed motel.

Becky decided not to mention that she and her mother also resided in the motel, which meant that the lounge and dining room she spoke of were less than, shall we say, _hotel-like._

Becky was so tired of cleaning all the rooms in the motel. She hated the housekeeping job the most, which of course meant her mother assigned her to it the most. Becky was almost positive cleaning was also her mother’s least favourite job.

She had been working at this one spot on a kitchen counter for a good few minutes, but no matter how hard she rubbed at it with detergent, the rather large stain wouldn’t fade. Becky was as stubborn as the stain, though, so she kept scrubbing and scrubbing, no matter how clear it was that it wasn’t working.

She was so focused on her task she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.

“Hello.”

Becky screeched, dropped her cleaning rag, and turned to face the potential threat, only to discover her best friend Fraser.

Fraser was taking a gap year before he decided if he wanted to go to uni or not. He’d moved out of his parents’ house as soon as he had graduated from high school, moving into a flat that proved to be too expensive, since he was evicted for not keeping up with his rent. A week after being evicted, he was fired from his job as an Abercrombie cashier.

With hardly any money to his name and parents unwilling to take him in due to what Fraser cited as “personal reasons,” Becky had offered him a place at Cuttle Motel. Her mother, sensing an opportunity, offered him a job in exchange for the lodging. Fraser ended up handling the financial side of things, which was risky as his dodgy budgeting was the reason he ended up being evicted, but he seemed to have learnt his lesson.

Besides, both Becky and her mother sucked at math.

“Jesus Christ, Fraser! You can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

Fraser smirked. “Do what I want.”

“No, you do not. Remember, _I_ am your boss, your employer. I can fire you.” Becky tried to put on the most assertive look she could pull.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Fraser informed her solemnly.

“I don’t think so, _employee,_ ” Becky turned around, picked up the rag, and resumed her scrubbing, before adding, “So why’d you pay me a visit?”

“One of the guests seems really angry. Kept complaining to me about his room – apparently, not only his bed poorly made, the sink’s leaking too,” Fraser shook his head. “Poor guy looked like he was about to burst a couple of veins or something. He asked for someone in charge. Couldn’t find your mum, so you were the next best thing.”

Becky swore. She removed the rubber gloves from her hands and handed them over to Fraser, telling him, “In that case, you’re now on cleaning duty. Get rid of this stain or we’re not going to watch _Star Wars_ tomorrow.”

Fraser gasped dramatically, and in the most exaggerated tone possible, cried, “No. You wouldn’t. Not my beloved _Star Wars_. How could you do this, cruel woman?” Fraser’s voice went into an even higher pitch than before. “I know what I must do. I must clean. I must clean, for my life depends on it.”

Becky ignored him entirely, instead dumping the rest of her cleaning supplies on his person, before striding off to the office, where complaints were often made.

She stopped midway, however, when bits and pieces of conversation floated into her earshot.

Becky didn’t usually eavesdrop on private conversations. She felt it rude and an invasion of privacy.

But there was something else about this particular conversation. Something was nagging at her, in the back of her head. Something that told her that she should listen in on these words.

She tiptoed softly towards the voice, avoiding the creaking planks on the floor.

“You do realise she’s got to go.”

Becky couldn’t place the voice. It didn’t _sound_ like any voices she’d heard before – namely, the voices of the guests she’d previously admitted into the motel that night – but then again, the voice didn’t sound like anything at all. It was quite possibly the least distinctive voice she’d ever heard. Not to mention it was speaking in a pitch that was barely audible through the walls.

“That’s very true. We can’t keep her alive any longer than we have to.”

Becky froze, unsure of what she was hearing.

She crept closer to the door she heard these words come from – the door to her left, Room Nine. A guest room that was supposed to be unoccupied at the moment.

“Right… Then we can have…” Becky strained her ears, but she couldn’t catch the rest of the sentence.

So, she put her head right to the door.

Silence.

Until the voices started up again. “Oh, yeah, and then in the next chapter we should kill off Brent.”

“What? No. That’s a terrible idea. Brent is the protagonist’s _love interest._ We can’t kill him off in the seventh chapter.”

“Do you even remember the rough plan? It was meant…”

Becky didn’t listen to the rest of the sentence, taking her ear off the door. It was clear, now, that the only discussion going on here was an innocent writerly one. It was also clear that Becky was a paranoid creep.

Shaking her head in embarrassment, Becky continued on to the office, steeling herself to deal with angry customers.


End file.
